Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Monday, January 10, 2011
train ride
Mrs schwartz sits and reads her book, enjoying the quiet of her four small children. She cant remember the last time they got along so well. As the train twists and turns they each stare out the window watching the scenery fly by. From time to time there is a bump and they shift in their seats. Its mostly quiet as each one takes in the excitement of the locomotion. It moves so fast they feel like they are flying. From time to time one child softly taps another to point out something interesting seen out the window. And like dominos the action is passed on, each child nudging the next to show them in turn. As new passengers get on the children take them in, noticing the small details of their clothing and their mannerisms. It is their first time on a train, their first trip away from home and everything seems new and exciting. Suddenly the train makes a quick sharp turn and one by one the children all fall to the left, each falling on top of the other. “get off me” yells the one on the bottom. “I cant, shes on me” yells the next. “he’s hurting me” “he kicked me”… And suddenly the quiet is gone. And in its place are 4 bickering children. No longer remembering what caused them to be pushed, no longer hushed by the newness of the event, they move on to other more familiar arguments. And with a sad smile mrs Schwartz slowly closes her book and is grateful for the few minutes of silence that she enjoyed.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
his 2 wives
Leah tenderly picks tomatoes, trying to make herself care. After finally placing 5 in the bag she moves on to the cucumbers. Normally the vibrant colors of the vegetables are enough to make her feel healthy and joyous. But ever since his passing life just seems black and white. Even colorful objects have lost their luster. So she moves along numbly gathering the makings of a salad, so she can go home and make believe along with her children, that life still matters. She feels someone standing next to her and looks up to see Her. His first wife. In the past she always felt a smugness when she saw her. A little burst of pride, as if she won. But now she doesn’t know what to feel. None of it really matters anymore. Chava approaches the vegetable aisle pushing her heavy wagon, while her two small children pull on her dress. She doesn’t notice leah standing there until she is right next to her. So many emotions pass through her mind. But none of them seem to linger for long. Except for one. Sympathy. no matter what transpired in the past she cant help but feel bad for this woman who has lost her husband. And as leah looks up she offers her a smile. And leah smiles back. And each continue on with their day.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
the dentist office
She walked in to the room with an air of confidence. She too appeared to be in her mid twenties but seemed to be everything I felt I was not. She was carrying a handbag indicative of a professional. Her outfit was modest yet showed an artistic inner being. Her hair was perfectly blown, side bangs feathered back to perfection. She annoyed me to the core. Here I was in agony and she had the audacity to have it altogether! In contrast, I had just thrown on a long skirt with a sweatshirt, slipped my hair in a pony tail and prayed not to meet anyone I knew. And if I did, too bad. I had a toothache. She approached the busy receptionist and signed her name on the clipboard. I prayed she’d sit on the other side of the room but no, of course not. On a day like this, when everything already seemed to be going wrong, little miss perfect had to sit down right next to me. I knew her type well. Choir head in high school, top seminary graduate and after the quick route through college landed the perfect job. And of course had her pick of perfect boys to go out with. And then to make matters worse, she had to smile at me. She couldn’t just be pretty, she had to be friendly too??? Smile back I ordered myself. And before I could help it I found myself turning and introducing myself, and then asking her her name. I expected a quick easy response but to my horror I watched as she struggled to get the words out. A stutterer. Who would have guessed. Something inside me softened. Perhaps it didn’t all come to her so easily either.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)